


Seven Days

by Shiraume



Category: Prince of Tennis (TV), Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-01
Updated: 2012-10-07
Packaged: 2017-11-15 11:22:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiraume/pseuds/Shiraume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven Days of drabbles and ficlets, in honor of Tezuka Kunimitsu's birthday (October 7) 2012. Tezuka-centric, with slices of Tezuka/Fuji. Both the mature rating and underage warning are due to the the Third Day; please be advised.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Seven Days: The First

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 380 words. Rated G. Gen/Tezuka Kunimitsu character study. Originally written on 7/24/2011 as part of a drabble project.

Tezuka kept a diary since he was in grade school. He'd made an effort to write daily, summarizing his day or highlighting his thoughts. When he became the captain of Seishun's tennis club, the short entries progressed to detailed accounts of club activities. On the day they won the National Championship title, however, he found he had nothing to write after, "We won."

Japan's number one. Fuji had reminded him at the end of Echizen's match against Yukimura. Fuji, who'd noticed his smile and playfully commented on it.

Ever since he entered the Seigaku tennis club, so many of his journal entries had been about Fuji. This had never struck him as anything extraordinary: he'd found no one else who intrigued him quite like Fuji did over the three years. It was impossible to accurately gauge Fuji's strength, or fathom why Fuji kept playing tennis while never giving it his all. Of all his teammates, he found Fuji the most difficult one to deal with, because he could never fully understand Fuji. Even when thoughts on Echizen became more prominent in his journal entries, Fuji remained a shadow never quite forgotten.

What was Fuji to him? More than a simple teammate, certainly. A friend -- if any friend could see through him so clearly yet stay closed to him. The rival he'd never had, because he couldn't find a way to make Fuji understand what he wanted. And now, they didn't have the time anymore even if Fuji finally found his fighting spirit. It should have been enough that Fuji found it for the team before the National Tournament ended.

Only -- it wasn't. He'd achieved everything he wanted for Seigaku, but there was something else he wanted, not for Seigaku but for himself. And Yamato-buchou had said it was okay to play tennis for his own sake, to enjoy himself. Now that Seigaku was out of his hands, he could afford to be a little selfish. So he accepted Fuji's request, defeated Fuji with everything he had, calling with all of his soul. This wasn't for Seigaku, unlike with Echizen. This was for Fuji, and more importantly, this was for _himself_.

And when at last Fuji answered, he would be there, to play the best match of his life.


	2. Seven Days: The Second

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 380 words. Rated G. Gen/Fuji Syuusuke character study. Originally written on 7/27/2011 for a drabble project.

From the start, Fuji knew Tezuka was special.

There was nothing obvious at the first glance of the overly serious face, but Fuji _knew_ with an instinctive certainty. When Tezuka started drawing attention -- and resentment -- in the tennis club by beating all of the third-years, Fuji felt half vindicated and half annoyed, like one of his cherished secrets had suddenly become a common knowledge. But his fascination with Tezuka continued unchanged: Tezuka was the best he'd met, and something inside Tezuka seemed to glow from within, like a beacon shining through a pane of glass. It was beautiful. And for Fuji, reaching for it was just as instinctive as the flash of recognition that alighted his senses the first time they met.

Their first match was a disappointment. But Fuji could be patient. He would wait as long as he needed.

The wait turned out to be long indeed. For the next two years, Fuji knew he was Tezuka's closest friend except for Oishi. And he was always so wonderfully certain he knew Tezuka best. Perhaps that was why he failed to grasp the most important part of Tezuka until Echizen and the practice match in the rain. Only then did Fuji realize he'd fallen into a trap of his own making. Easy victories had poisoned him until he desired a true defeat simply because he'd never tasted it. It took Tezuka nearly destroying his arm to make Fuji realize he too had something to fight for. And fight he did: through Kirihara Akaya's astonishing evolution and Shiraishi's inexorable strength, even Tezuka's own shadow in Niou.

Only to have Tezuka raise the stakes. Fuji should never have expected two years' worth of feelings could be resolved so easily. Tezuka was steadily rising higher, daring Fuji _to answer him_ in kind. It was equal parts a thrill and a surprise that Tezuka had always seen and desired the potential rival in him, in _only_ him. That the instinctive search for something elusive yet elemental had been a mutual one. No matter how many strong opponents Tezuka met in the future, Fuji would always be the most special one to Tezuka, just as Tezuka would be for Fuji.

And this was a bond that would never break, no matter what.


	3. Seven Days: The Third

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 384 words. Rated R/NC-17 for sexual content. Originally written on 10/20/2006, right after reading Genius 321 (the Fuji vs. Shiraishi match during the Nationals). So -- this would be the part with the underaged warning bit.

Tezuka's mouth pressed hard against his. Fuji nipped at him, unrepentant when fire flashed in Tezuka's eyes. The bathroom wall was hard and cold on his back, but Tezuka was -- Fuji gasped, clutching at Tezuka -- grinding their hips together, the friction maddeningly hot. Fuji tore his mouth away to whisper, "Yes," and Tezuka went still for a heartbeat.

The next moment, Tezuka's kiss took his breath away as a hand resolutely grasped his cock, stroking hard and slow, and Fuji had to bite down on Tezuka's shoulder to keep quiet. The bathroom's stale air burned in his throat, parching his mouth. Tezuka was rutting against him in short, jerky motions, their lower bodies pressed together impossibly tight. Fuji panted harshly in Tezuka's ear, feeling Tezuka's movement become faster, harder, losing all semblance of rhythm. Tezuka grabbed his chin, fucking his mouth with same feral intensity as his hand on Fuji's cock, and Fuji came with a muffled scream, nearly biting down on Tezuka's tongue in his mouth.

When Fuji's vision cleared again, Tezuka was still pressed against him, hand warm on the side of his hip, lips tracing beads of sweat? tears? running on his cheek. Languidly they kissed again, their earlier heat not quite dissipated, but simmered down to a slower burn. Tezuka's hand on his hipbone was a gentle pressure, and Fuji smiled tiredly, reading the silent question there -- whether he was all right.

"We need to get back," Fuji whispered, his throat dry and voice hoarse. Tezuka's lips moved silently against his temple, trailing down to the corner of an eye. Fuji smiled without opening his eyes, tilting up his head to meet him in a gentle kiss. A moment later, while Fuji rearranged his clothing and attempted to look presentable, Tezuka's eyes lingered on him, heavy as a physical touch. Fuji took his time straightening his shirt, adjusting his jersey with a deliberate grace one might better use for stripping. If Tezuka noticed what Fuji was doing, he made no sign of it.

When they were about to leave, Tezuka stopped him with a hand on his elbow. "Good game," Tezuka said firmly, and the heated spark in his eyes made Fuji smile slowly, with an answering gleam of a silent promise in his eyes.

"Thank you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Genius 321, Fuji's defeat is one of the pivotal moments in his character development. Speculation being the name of the game for pairings, I saw two ways that Tezuka and Fuji could progress from there: this one is where Fuji's loss helps further their relationship. "[California Dreaming](http://archiveofourown.org/works/263820)," written a month later, is one where things go straight to hell after the Shiraishi match. Though this one is much shorter (and unreleased until now), I've always considered the two fics flipsides of each other.


	4. Seven Days: The Fourth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 522 words. Rated G. ~~Attempted Humor~~ Fluff  & Romance. Originally written on 10/10/2011.

_**Type** _

"The kind of person I like?" There was a small pause, then Fuji smiled and tilted his head minutely. "Oh, I guess someone who makes me laugh," he decided, words accompanied by a soft laugh. The girl conducting the interview (for the school newspaper, she said) smiled back, clearly charmed. Tezuka held back a scowl of annoyance.

That was the thing, though. Fuji smiled a _lot_. Laughed pretty easily, too. While Tezuka knew better than to conclude it meant three-fourth of the world's population was Fuji's type, it didn't offer any hints, either.

"So what, Fuji, you like someone funny?" was Kikumaru's conclusion, but he didn't have a chance to finish the thought before the interviewer immediately turned to him and asked the same question. Tezuka sent the girl a forbidding look, hoping to ward her off from approaching him for an interview, and quickly retreated to the court.

Sense of humor, Tezuka supposed, would be universally appreciated. He liked comedy shows himself, though he had a feeling none of his teammates (other than Oishi, who saw his video collection) would believe it. But liking comedy was one thing; he knew he wasn't particularly _funny_. Or entertaining in general. Unless one liked watching tennis, of course, but – in his opinion anyway – tennis was hardly a spectator's sport.

After the practice, Fuji walked with him part of the way, just like he always did ever since they were first-years. Fuji made small talk and asked him questions about things Tezuka was sure he already knew the answers to, and Tezuka wondered if there was something _he_ should be asking Fuji.

"What kind of person makes you laugh?"

Fuji blinked at him. Then smiled. "What makes _you_ laugh?"

That wasn't fair, asking a question in lieu of an answer. But it'd be beneath him to point it out. "Something amusing," Tezuka answered truthfully.

"Anything else?"

"You," Tezuka said, piqued. He hadn't asked just so Fuji could turn it back on him.

Also, it was the truth.

Tezuka was a bit surprised to find Fuji look...shy? "Well," Fuji said after a pause. "Me too."

And then it dawned on him. Whenever Fuji laughed when they were together, it was different from his usual laughter: it was a softer, sweeter kind of laugh he didn't let others hear.

"You told her you liked someone with beautiful fingers," Tezuka said, and it wasn't so much a question as an accusation. Fuji looked amused at that.

"And you wrote you liked someone who works hard," Fuji countered, but his eyes were sparkling with humor. "Are you saying I lack judgment? Because I find your fingers quite nice."

"No," Tezuka replied evenly. "Am I mistaken to believe you work hard?" Prodigy or not, Fuji delved into his subject of interest with amazing tenacity and passion that had to be seen to be believed. Of their team, Tezuka had been the only one unsurprised when Fuji won an award for his meticulous research paper on cacti.

"Takes one to know one," Fuji said, and laughed, because they both knew they weren't just talking about working hard. "Nice save, though."

"Likewise."


	5. Seven Days: The Fifth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 361 words. Rated G. Slice of life with a hint of romance. Originally written 10/10/2011.

_**Calling It Like It Is** _

Fuji never called him "captain." Actually, none of the third-years ever did – whereas second-years and first-years, even the ever-insolent Echizen, always referred to him as "captain."

It was inevitable, he supposed. When the batch of current second-years first entered Seigaku, Tezuka had been the team's vice-captain. When Echizen entered, he was the captain. But when the third-years entered Seigaku together, he was just Tezuka Kunimitsu. While being the captain of Seigaku Tennis Club was a privilege and an honor, he was secretly glad the third-years always called him by name and not by his title.

Especially Fuji. Not that he'd admit it aloud; Fuji would take to calling him "captain" just to be contrary.

"Tezuka."

Tezuka slowed down a tiny bit, until Fuji caught up with him. Earlier, he'd seen Fuji cornered by the same girl from the school newspaper right after the practice finished. "What did she want?"

"She wanted to ask me more questions for the profile she's putting together. Apparently, she's planning to title it the 'Tensai Talk.'"

A lot of people called him "Prodigy Fuji Syuusuke" as if the word prodigy was part of his name. For a moment, a sudden realization made Tezuka frown, that _he_ had never once thought of Fuji as "the Prodigy." To him, Fuji was...Fuji.

"She should just use your name."

Fuji hummed thoughtfully, then smiled. "Well. You know how it is. Newspaper articles need catchy titles. 'Fuji Talk' just doesn't have the same impact."

"Then she should call it as it is."

"Just 'Profiles'? Tezuka." Fuji's tone was that of a light admonishment, but his eyes betrayed his merriment.

Tezuka shrugged minutely. "Your name is Fuji."

Fuji flashed him a smile that was smaller but brighter, and said, "Technically, my name is Syuusuke."

Tezuka's mouth quirked briefly. "Only in private."

"So I can call you Kunimitsu?" There was an undercurrent of laughter in Fuji's voice. Tezuka gave him an arch look.

"Don't make me repeat myself."

Fuji's laugh was full and sweet. In answer, Tezuka let his hand brush against Fuji's, savoring the warmth of the lingering contact.

And if their hands kept brushing all the way home, neither minded it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**Note:**_ Despite numerous fanfiction examples to the contrary, none of the third-years call Tezuka "buchou" in canon. I thought that was interesting. And telling. :)


	6. Seven Days: The Sixth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 661 words. Rated PG. Slice of life with a hint of romance. Originally written 4/11/2007 as a relaxation fic after the completion of _[Whisper](http://archiveofourown.org/works/267957)_.

_**Sora** _

Sky.

Purest blue, with dustings of feathery white near the horizon. Air. Crystal-clear; transparent, like the tinkle of glass bells. Water, a shade darker than the sky, the wave crests wafting gently with the wind. Sand. Palest gold, bleached white in the sun.

Sound. Warm and lazy, drifting through the billowing curtains. The static and skip, as familiar as the repeated tune. And words, a hypnotic murmur shadowing the melody.

He did not look up when a cold hand brushed against his cheek. His attention hadn’t been on the open book in his lap for at least half an hour, but he refused to give up, unwilling to simply idle. Cold fingers curled on his nape, and he resisted the urge to shiver.

“It’s still too cold to leave the windows open.” Tezuka drew the cold fingers away from his neck, lacing their fingers together. His spine still tingled from the chill of the touch, but the sun was warm on his pant leg. “Your hands are cold.”

A soft huff of what might have been a laugh, or exasperated sigh, and a lithe body rounded his chair, leaning on the arm of the wooden chaise longue.

“I finally drag you out for a proper vacation, and you spend the whole time reading books and ignoring me.” The mild voice held a hint of petulance for his benefit, and his mouth quirked.

“I thought you didn’t want to play tennis today,” he pointed out.

Fuji’s free hand snaked under the hem of his shirt, but he caught it a scant inch before it reached its target. Fuji struggled to free his hands, but his heart wasn’t in it. Tezuka adjusted his grip, holding Fuji’s hands more securely. He knew he could best Fuji in a straight arm-wrestling, but Fuji was surprisingly stronger than he looked and knew when to press his advantage. The book, tumbled from his lap, lay on the sand, forgotten.

Tezuka’s grip remained firm, and Fuji, after a short moment of stillness, turned a sudden dead weight on his chest, driving the breath out of him in a surprised whoosh. He nearly lost his grip on Fuji, but stubbornly held on. Both of them knew Fuji had already achieved his true objective, but that didn’t mean Tezuka was planning to fold. At least, not yet.

Sharp chin dug into Tezuka’s collarbone, and Fuji’s lighter but still substantial weight rested fully on top of him. But Tezuka knew it had to be just as uncomfortable for Fuji, with hands held pinned behind his body and legs tangled with Tezuka’s, unable to regain balance or leverage. And Fuji had always disliked being immobilized. Tezuka lowered their joined hands, resting them on the satiny wood of the seat, so Fuji could free himself if he wished.

Instead, Fuji relaxed and nestled against him. Fuji’s cheek lay on Tezuka’s shoulder, soft hair tickling his chin. His breathing evened out and deepened, synchronizing with Tezuka’s. Fuji’s hands crept under the hem of Tezuka’s shirt, seeking out the warmth of bare skin. His fingers were still cool but no longer icy, warmed by Tezuka’s hands and the sun-kissed wood.

“Your hands are still cold,” Tezuka told him, and put his arms around Fuji.

“Mm. And you’re warm.”

Fuji burrowed closer, shifting so they could cuddle without his weight crushing Tezuka. Tezuka let a small smile tug on his lips, tucking Fuji’s head under his chin.

The song crooned softly, then faded away. Tezuka briefly considered picking up the book, but Fuji was warm and pleasant curled up against him. He relaxed, holding Fuji snugly, and waited for the next song to start.

Halfway through the next song, both of them were sound asleep, resting together under the gentle warmth of the spring sun. Sheer white curtains ruffled lazily in the breeze, stilling as the music slowed to a stop. The static and skip gave way to a silence.

Sky. Ocean.

And wind at rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sora means sky, and can also refer to the sky-blue color. It was my favorite color as a child.


	7. Seven Days: The Seventh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1,262 words. Rated G. Slice of life with humor. Written for Tezuka’s birthday, 2012-10-07.

In Tezuka’s experience, if he was dragged into something bizarre, it was usually part of Oishi’s plan, generously helped along by Kikumaru. If that something had more than one backup plan neatly tiered, it was likely Inui’s work. If he didn’t see, hear, or smell it coming, then he could always blame Fuji for it.

(If he survived all of the above mostly intact, he often had Kawamura to thank.)

That was why, when Tezuka opened his door to Oishi and Fuji’s smiling faces, he had exactly three seconds to consider the relevant facts – one, it was his birthday; two, his mother insisted on celebrating it with a Sunday family lunch rather than dinner; and three, his mother asked him to answer the door – and decide on the best course of action.

Namely to slam the door shut.

Naturally, he found it jammed with a well-placed sneakered foot. Before he could try again the door was yanked open, and Tezuka found himself face to face with Inui and Kawamura, who gave him a smug grin and an apologetic smile each, and promptly grabbed him.

“See? I told you we all had to come.” Kikumaru was leaning on Oishi’s shoulder, watching the spectacle with undisguised relish. Tezuka’s only consolation was that he didn’t find the rest of the tennis club – not even Momoshiro and Kaidoh, to his surprise – waiting outside his house. And there was his fact four: his suspiciously unsurprised mother was cheerfully waving and wishing them a pleasant time, and Fuji was giving her a polite bow – of course.

“We already have permission from your mother,” Oishi explained, as if that should allay any concerns Tezuka might have left at being unceremoniously kidnapped from his home. “We’ll be back before ten. And we’ll be chaperoned after six. Everyone worked really hard to prepare everything and – it’ll be fun!”

Tezuka would have pointed out his idea of fun didn’t include being forcibly dragged off to a birthday party, but he noticed the identical smile stretched on Inui and Fuji’s faces and thought better of it. He held back a sigh, and pinned Oishi with a stern look. “Before ten,” he returned, and Oishi nodded. Behind Oishi, Kikumaru gave Fuji a thumbs-up, taking the capitulation for what it was.

“It’ll be fun,” Fuji said softly at his right. Tezuka leveled him a withering look, already having a reasonable guess who masterminded the plan’s execution. Fuji smiled at him, unfazed. “You’ll see.”

“If I must.” Just then it occurred to him: it was only one-thirty in the afternoon. “Fuji...”

The quiet chuckle was his only answer as they arrived at the bus station. Before he could ask where they were going, the rest of his team pushed him into the bus and piled in after him.

~*~*~*~

The first part of the plan, it turned out, was a matinee performance of a stand-up comedy show. Momoshiro and Kaidoh, who were apparently charged with the seat-acquiring duty, met them inside the performance hall, having managed to snag them eight seats in the center-front section. As expected the place was too loud for his liking. Kikumaru and Momoshiro kept laughing loudly at every joke, and Kaidoh kept yelling equally loudly for them to stop. Inui’s dry voice continued to drone out a feature-length commentary to his left, interspersed by Kawamura asking Oishi to explain a punch line, and Oishi patiently repeating each one. Only Fuji, a seat over to his right, presented a blessed spot of silence, broken only by soft laughter at the most inappropriate moments possible.

After the show – and it turned out the actual party wasn’t until six –Tezuka found himself ushered to a karaoke bar. An hour of Momoshiro’s impassioned singing and Tezuka was sure his hearing would never be the same again. At least Fuji and Kikumaru chose songs that didn’t distort their voices to horrendous heights. But Kawamura had no sense of pitch, Oishi kept missing the beat, and the less was said about Inui and Kaidoh’s singing, the better. And after being coaxed to sing a rendition of a Hirai Ken hit single, he made a mental note to decline the next time Fuji offered to lend him music CDs.

It was amazing how much the sight of Kawamura Sushiya relieved him. That was, until he realized the party proper included the entirety of Seigaku Tennis Club. The interior of the restaurant had been redecorated by the overly-enthusiastic club members, who seemed to have grabbed every piece of decoration available in blue. The cacophony of noises going at full-blast made him extremely glad the third-years at least had the foresight to reserve the restaurant for the evening, especially since Ryuuzaki-sensei (who came surprisingly well-dressed in blouse, skirt, and a stylish red sweater) seemed disinclined to rein in the unruly crowd. By some miracle Oishi managed to stop everyone long enough to sing him happy birthday, and Tezuka looked down at the custom-ordered cake, shaped like a miniature tennis court with HAPPY BIRTHDAY TEZUKA-BUCHOU written in large block letters, and couldn’t help feeling touched. Even as his eardrums regretted the fact, every single member of the tennis club had come to celebrate his birthday.

Tezuka looked away from the small mountain of presents in the corner of the room to the piece of cake placed in front of him, complete with a tiny tennis-playing figurine on top, and looked to his right with unerring instinct. “Your work?” he asked softly, just barely audible above the clamor. Fuji smiled at him, eyes twinkling. Just then, his phone chimed, and Tezuka flipped it open to find a message accompanied by a picture.

 _Happy birthday buchou_ , the message read. _Tell Fuji-senpai this was a pain and his favor’s expired._ The picture was of a sleepy-eyed Echizen, taken with a phone, looking as if he’d just gotten up for the morning. Tezuka recalled seeing Fuji make a call earlier, and shook his head.

“Don’t trouble yourself with unnecessary things.”

“No more than you do,” was Fuji’s placid answer. “You can tell him I consider us even when you message him back later.”

The thing with Fuji was, one had to think fast and consider several factors at once. Tezuka remembered messaging Oishi from Kyuushuu during the Regional Tournament, and how the simple gesture made him feel as if he too were fighting alongside his team. Echizen’s message was timed eight o’clock exactly, and the last he heard, Echizen was in New York. Given their time difference, whatever favor Echizen owed must have been significant if it got him out of bed this early in the morning. (Which probably meant he was better off not knowing what it was.) And Oishi’d said they’d finish before ten o’clock.

“When should I be messaging him back?” _Since you obviously planned this to the last detail_ , Tezuka thought, hardly needed to be said.

“At nine o’clock, when the fireworks are in full swing. Don’t forget to send pictures.”

If asked, Tezuka would have disowned the short laugh that escaped him. Probably -- if Fuji hadn’t chosen that very moment to lean closer and murmur, “Many happy returns,” his smile brighter and warmer than Tezuka had ever seen.

Since Fuji did, Tezuka let his mouth quirk in a small smile and murmured back a “Thank you.” Inui’s glasses glinted across the table, and the ostensive lack of a camcorder didn’t reassure Tezuka one bit. But unlike the picture from the National Tournament, he was reasonably sure this one wouldn’t end up on the front page of their school newspaper.

Maybe.

**_HAPPY BIRTHDAY TEZUKA!_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **_Notes:_** The Hirai Ken single in question is “Hitomi wo Tojite.” Kudos if you can guess why I chose this one! One of Tezuka’s lines (“Don’t trouble yourself with unnecessary things.”) must be credited to [Petronia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Petronia/pseuds/Petronia)’s [“On Ice”](http://www.kekkai.org/sabina/NnY/fiction/tenipuri/ice.html). I think I also stole a line off [thehoyden](http://archiveofourown.org/users/thehoyden/pseuds/thehoyden)’s [“Minor Conspiracies”](http://archiveofourown.org/works/45836). If I stole more lines and forgot to credit, please forgive?


End file.
